Read Online Till the Last Breath . . . by Durjoy Datta - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Durjoy Datta
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A
broken
dream now. The nurse handed over a robe and pulled the curtain so that she could change. Tying the knots of her robe was a little difficult as her fingers failed her. The nurse asked if she needed any help and Pihu called her in. She felt naked and embarrassed as the nurse tied the knots behind her back. But she had been through much worse. Before she took the experimental drugs, she was used to a nurse bathing her and seeing her naked every day.
‘I am going to die,’ she said to the nurse and smiled.
‘Don’t say that,’ the nurse replied.
‘No, I just said that because you might be the only one who will see me naked before I die. That is, apart from the othernurses who have seen me naked before. Why don’t we have hot guys as nurses? I mean, I wouldn’t mind that. Even you wouldn’t, would you?’
The nurse laughed and Pihu laughed with her. ‘Shall we go?’ the nurse asked.
‘Only if the knots are tight enough.’
‘They are,’ she said. ‘Which ward do I need to take you to?’ She picked up her chart and read out the room number. ‘509 … Oh, seems like you have another patient with you in that room.’
‘I know. I’ve met the guy,’ she said and grabbed her crutches.
She stopped by a few mirrors to look at herself. And prayed that her robe wouldn’t fall off. Even with the flimsy robe on, she felt as good as naked, as if everyone could see through it. The nurse offered her a wheelchair, but she refused. She staggered on to her crutches and walked to the elevator, which took her to the third floor. She didn’t know how long it would be before she lost the strength to walk again. She walked towards room no. 509.
Hepatic encephalopathy.
She read out the words written on the chart of the guy who was to be her room-mate in her last, dying days.
It’s curable
, she thought.
In most cases.
‘There.’ The nurse gestured. ‘I will set you up and call your parents?’
‘Sure.’
She saw the guy again.
Dushyant Roy
.
He was sleeping. She thought he looked gorgeous with his unruly hair, four-day stubble and carefree arrogance.
He drinks. He smokes. Probably does drugs too. Hmm. Probably owns a bike and drives it really fast.
Within minutes she had imagined him as a bad boy straight out of old English movies. Or more like Ajay Devgn, with his legs in a 180-degree split on two Yamahas, from the cult Hindi action movie
Phool aur Kaante
!
In the eighteen years before her disease was diagnosed, she had never looked at boys like a girl usually does. They were always classmates, not potential boyfriends. Over the last few months, she had grown fat on a healthy diet of her mother’s old Mills & Boons, the
Fifty Shades
and the Sylvia Day trilogies, and felt an insuppressible urge to be amongst the opposite gender. To feel what it was like to be attracted to a guy, to feel the little goosebumps when a guy touches you, to be in the naked company of a man. To …
‘There,’ the nurse said as she tucked Pihu in. Pihu thanked the nurse, who asked her to push the button if she needed anything and left.
‘It’s not that bad,’ Pihu mumbled to herself. She fiddled with the controls of the bed. Up. Down. Stop. Up. Down. Stop. Up. Down. Up. Down. Stop. She giggled.
‘Can you stop?’ the voice from the other side of the curtain said. It was hoarse and demanded attention.
‘Oh.’
Dushyant.
She drew the curtain to the side and met his piercing gaze.
‘I am trying to sleep here,’ he grumbled.
‘You’re not trying to sleep. It’s a symptom of the disease you have. You will feel sleepy for the next month or two,’ she explained, her playful enthusiasm anachronous with the news she delivered.
‘Whatever. Will you just stop making that noise? It’s annoying.’
‘Hi, I am Pihu!’ She thrust her hand out.
‘Umm … I don’t need to know your name. I am leaving in a day or two,’ he said, ‘and your voice is more annoying than the noise you were making earlier. Let’s not
broken
dream now. The nurse handed over a robe and pulled the curtain so that she could change. Tying the knots of her robe was a little difficult as her fingers failed her. The nurse asked if she needed any help and Pihu called her in. She felt naked and embarrassed as the nurse tied the knots behind her back. But she had been through much worse. Before she took the experimental drugs, she was used to a nurse bathing her and seeing her naked every day.
‘I am going to die,’ she said to the nurse and smiled.
‘Don’t say that,’ the nurse replied.
‘No, I just said that because you might be the only one who will see me naked before I die. That is, apart from the othernurses who have seen me naked before. Why don’t we have hot guys as nurses? I mean, I wouldn’t mind that. Even you wouldn’t, would you?’
The nurse laughed and Pihu laughed with her. ‘Shall we go?’ the nurse asked.
‘Only if the knots are tight enough.’
‘They are,’ she said. ‘Which ward do I need to take you to?’ She picked up her chart and read out the room number. ‘509 … Oh, seems like you have another patient with you in that room.’
‘I know. I’ve met the guy,’ she said and grabbed her crutches.
She stopped by a few mirrors to look at herself. And prayed that her robe wouldn’t fall off. Even with the flimsy robe on, she felt as good as naked, as if everyone could see through it. The nurse offered her a wheelchair, but she refused. She staggered on to her crutches and walked to the elevator, which took her to the third floor. She didn’t know how long it would be before she lost the strength to walk again. She walked towards room no. 509.
Hepatic encephalopathy.
She read out the words written on the chart of the guy who was to be her room-mate in her last, dying days.
It’s curable
, she thought.
In most cases.
‘There.’ The nurse gestured. ‘I will set you up and call your parents?’
‘Sure.’
She saw the guy again.
Dushyant Roy
.
He was sleeping. She thought he looked gorgeous with his unruly hair, four-day stubble and carefree arrogance.
He drinks. He smokes. Probably does drugs too. Hmm. Probably owns a bike and drives it really fast.
Within minutes she had imagined him as a bad boy straight out of old English movies. Or more like Ajay Devgn, with his legs in a 180-degree split on two Yamahas, from the cult Hindi action movie
Phool aur Kaante
!
In the eighteen years before her disease was diagnosed, she had never looked at boys like a girl usually does. They were always classmates, not potential boyfriends. Over the last few months, she had grown fat on a healthy diet of her mother’s old Mills & Boons, the
Fifty Shades
and the Sylvia Day trilogies, and felt an insuppressible urge to be amongst the opposite gender. To feel what it was like to be attracted to a guy, to feel the little goosebumps when a guy touches you, to be in the naked company of a man. To …
‘There,’ the nurse said as she tucked Pihu in. Pihu thanked the nurse, who asked her to push the button if she needed anything and left.
‘It’s not that bad,’ Pihu mumbled to herself. She fiddled with the controls of the bed. Up. Down. Stop. Up. Down. Stop. Up. Down. Up. Down. Stop. She giggled.
‘Can you stop?’ the voice from the other side of the curtain said. It was hoarse and demanded attention.
‘Oh.’
Dushyant.
She drew the curtain to the side and met his piercing gaze.
‘I am trying to sleep here,’ he grumbled.
‘You’re not trying to sleep. It’s a symptom of the disease you have. You will feel sleepy for the next month or two,’ she explained, her playful enthusiasm anachronous with the news she delivered.
‘Whatever. Will you just stop making that noise? It’s annoying.’
‘Hi, I am Pihu!’ She thrust her hand out.
‘Umm … I don’t need to know your name. I am leaving in a day or two,’ he said, ‘and your voice is more annoying than the noise you were making earlier. Let’s not
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